


A Poison So Sweet, A Life So Bitter

by gloriousdae



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcoholism, And an alcoholic, I totally forgot important tags whoops, It will be Gay officially, Thomas is depressed, Why am I even writing this, because when isn't he?, but he's gonna hurt james, he won't mean to though, i don't know if they will be acting too gay, i might just focus on alcohol and Thomas being a cock, i probably need therapy whoops, james is the mom friend but gayer, just don't read if you're like me and alcohol makes you uncomfortable, lafayette is an innocent creature, lafferson should be lafferSIN, okay imma stop with the tags now, this might not actually get gay, thomas has a lot of issues, thomas is an angry drunk, thomas is gonna try to die, too busy to be gay I have depression to write, which is funny because I'm gay and depressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:01:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9608621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriousdae/pseuds/gloriousdae
Summary: Ever since Martha died, nine years ago, Thomas has been broken. Actually, he's been broken since childhood. But now it's the worse it's ever been.James has been with Thomas since they were in seventh grade, he's seen him go through rough patches and recover, but he always recovers quickly, that's not the case this time.James is worried about Thomas and finally acts on that worry, first making things worse, but then better.This lines up with my fan fic with the french name that means Starlight.





	1. A Call, A Cave,

James groaned when he heard the much too loud ringer of his phone, everyone had the same ringtone on his phone, besides Thomas, he went in and changed it so that whenever he called a loud generic jazz song played. That song was practically James' alarm in the morning any more, but usually he was called when the sun was up, but as he opened his eyes and was treated by a dark room, excluding the phone screen, he knew it was either too late to be up or too early. He reached over and answered his phone.  
"What'd you need, Thomas? James asks, his tone sounding like he hadn't even been asleep, he didn't want Thomas to get upset that he woke him up, he'd just tell his friend he was up reading.  
"I just want some company. I don't know." Thomas says, James rolled his eyes, he could almost hear the shrug to match his tone and words.  
"Understandable. Why're you up at..."  
"Two. I couldn't sleep. It's just not a thing that's happening tonight. I tried to, but I don't know, I just can't." Thomas says  
James nods and then he realized they couldn't see each other. "Alright, I'll be over in twenty minutes."  
"Than you, Jimmy, you're not the best." Thomas says with a small smile as he hung up.  
Truth was, Thomas had been asleep, but about thirty minutes ago he woke up with a feeling of dread. He had a terrible dream that he couldn't remember any details of. When he awoke he was feeling like something was wrong with James, he knew the chances of that were low, but he couldn't reason himself out of calling his friend. He knew he would answer, and if James didn't, that's when he'd allow himself to worry about him. But between calling James and waking up he had drank three beers, opening another when he hung up.  
Just as promised, twenty minutes later(actually Thomas kept track, twenty-five minutes, but who's actually counting?) he was knocking on the front door then before he got an answer he just went inside, there wasn't a point in waiting for Thomas.  
"How many drinks have you had since you got off the phone with me?" James asks, finding Thomas sitting on the kitchen counter with a a few bottle caps around him, but only one half full beer bottle.  
"Hm? This is my first one." Thomas says shaking his head, holding the bottle out with a shaking hand,  
James shook his head, "your eyes are pink, you're shaking, and," he paused, looking over in the recycling, "there's a box worth of empty bottles in here. How many have you had in the last thirty minutes?" He asks, going and grabbing the bottle caps to dispose of them.  
"I don't know, four? No, this is my fifth." Thomas says with a shrug and slight frown as James took the bottle opener and puts it in his pocket.  
"Really, Thomas? What have I told you about that? When'd you start drinking?" James asks, he wasn't going to dare to take the beer from Thomas, last time he did that he almost got a broken nose, it was easier to be soft and gentle with him when he was like this, the forceful and discipline methods hurt them both.  
Thomas looked over at the neon green clock on the stove top, shaking his head, "at one thirty." He answers simply, taking another large drink from the bottle as the time changed to two thirty.  
"Okay, well that's you're last one for the night. Okay?" James asks, it wasn't an actual question, but making it a statement wouldn't work, both knew this, maybe Thomas didn't understand it, but he knew it.  
"Yeah, alright. Last one." Thomas repeats back, James smiled softly as his friend finished the bottle.  
"Okay, now come on, I want you to calm down, okay? I hate when you're like this. How about we go for a drive?" James offers, taking the empty bottle from Thomas and throwing it away. He opened the fridge, there were two bottle lefts, that wouldn't do, not for Thomas, he would get anxious and freak out that he wouldn't be able to get more, it had happened before, maybe James would just bring him over to his own house, he wouldn't freak out of the lack of alcohol there, not as severely.  
"As long as I can drive." Thomas says with a wide goofy smirk,  
"We both know that I won't let you drive like this. Maybe if you stop drinking like it's the end of the world and I'll let you drive, until then, you have me to drive you where you need to be." James says, going over to Thomas and helping him off the counter, he was shaking terribly now, James knew he'd fall without support. "Where are your glasses?" He adds,  
Thomas shrugged, "I don't know, I haven't worn them for ages." He mumbles, leaning heavily on James,  
"You had them on in the afternoon, you have to wear them when you're awake, you'll hurt your eyes, won't be able to see."  
"They're a handicap." Thomas argued, James shook his head, "okay fine, they're in my room."  
"Good, I'll go get them, stay put, you'll hurt yourself walking around like this." James says, helping Thomas into a chair in the dining room, then going to his room, grabbing the glasses from his bedside table then going back out to Thomas, handing him the frames.  
"Thank you, Jimmy." Thomas says putting them on, then going to stand up, stumbling and almost falling, but James was there to help him get his balance.  
"Slow down, Tommy, I don't want to have to take you to the ER, and you don't want to go to the hospital, do you?" James asks looking up at him as he guided him towards the door,  
"Oh god no, I never want to go there." Thomas says shaking his head quickly, his hair bouncing and hitting his face now.  
"So be careful, otherwise you have to go." James says, suppressing a laugh from how he looked, like a big child, a big sad child. He opened the door, making sure to lock it(he had his own key, of course) once they were both outside.  
"Where are we going?" Thomas asks with that goofy smile again,  
"I don't know, we're just going to drive around till you're not shaking as much, okay?" James asks, Thomas simply nods, James smiled and opened the passenger door, then went to get in the drivers seat.  
"James, I can't get this thing to work." Thomas says, his tone a bit pitiful. He had the seatbelt tangled around his arms.  
James looked over and couldn't stop himself from laughing softly now, he reached up and turned on the ceiling light then went to work helping his friend from the seatbelt, then putting it on him correctly.  
"Thank you, Jimmy." Thomas says happily, James just shook his head and started the car.  
"In the glovebox is a bottle of water. I want it empty." James says as he pulled out of the driveway, turning the light off as he went.  
"Yes, sir." Thomas mumbles opening the glovebox and taking out the water bottle, James always had at least one there, as well as a bottle of painkillers, a tissue box, and cough syrup, always prepared to fall ill.  
Although on this particular night he has moved the medicine to the middle consul, a place where Thomas wouldn't look for it. Alcohol and medicine in sight has never gone over well for Thomas. He had tried to overdose seriously once, and just tried to take many random pills on other occasions not thinking, it wasn't safe. James hated having to baby proof his life for Thomas, but he also dreaded the thought that if he didn't he wouldn't have a Thomas to worry about.  
They drove in silence, at every stop sign and red light James would look over at Thomas, his red eyes magnified by the lenses of his glasses, but his shaking had slowed, so there was that to be thankful for. But that was it almost, he wasn't shaking, that was all he could think of to be thankful for. Well, that and he was still here. That thought couldn't stay away from James, no matter how many times he shook his head to rid of the thought, it came back. Thomas was still here but there could be a time when he wouldn't be. And if Thomas had his way it would be sooner than later. James couldn't say he didn't share the same wish, there were plenty of times he wishes he wasn't around, more often than not, but he had never, and would never, tell Thomas that. If Thomas knew that, he would take it as an okay to do it, James knew how his mind worked, Thomas thought if he wanted to do something it was okay, James luckily learned that rather early in their friendship, he could use that to his advantage in how he got Thomas to stay safe.  
"Thomas?" James finally broke he silence, it was beginning to worry him, usually Thomas was loud when he was drunk, that is, louder than usual.  
"Yes?" Thomas asks looking over at James,  
"Can I ask you a question without you getting mad at me?" James asks, stealing a glance as they approached another red light, usually he hated getting this many red light, but it was working out tonight.  
"Of course you can." Thomas says with the slightest frown,  
"Promise?" James asks  
"Promise." Thomas says with a nod, James knew a promise meant nothing while he was drunk, but it was comforting nonetheless.  
"We both know you have a tendency to get hurt while drunk, so why do you keep doing it? You were able to live happily without alcohol before, now you're dependent." James says, he could figure everything out about Thomas. He knew everything. He prided himself in his knowledge of his best friend, but this question he couldn't get a proper answer for, not on his own.  
"What'd you mean? I'm fine." Thomas says quickly,  
"You're still shaking, you've consumed more alcohol within the last hour and a half than I have in this last week. In the past you've ended up breaking bones due to your drunkness. You're no where close to fine, Thomas." James says stealing another glance,  
"I said I'm fine! You leave it to me to decide how I am!" Thomas yelled, James knew very well it was coming, knew he was going to end up yelling, he was prepared.  
"I just wanted to give my opinion on the situation." James says in a quiet, calm tone, it complimented Thomas' current emotion-filled yell,  
"You just want to try and control me! That's all you ever try to do! You know I don't need you, James! You're the one that needs me!"  
James ignored the yelling, he knew the words were meaningless, and he knew reacting in anyway would upset Thomas more, so he continued driving as Thomas' loud voice filled the car, repeating the same arguments, looking for a rise out of James.  
Finally, fifteen minutes later, Thomas had gone silent, James pulled into a parking lot attached to a park, turning the car off and looking over at Thomas.  
"You're drunk, if you want to make those claims at a later date when you're sober, I'll listen, but for now, you're drunk, take a breath, take a few, try to calm yourself. I can't drive safely with you screaming." James says calmly, always calm, especially when Thomas was at the edge, always there to pull him back.  
Thomas nods dumbly, he had worn himself out, James could tell, "yeah, alrighty, Jimmy." He says quietly  
James gave a sigh of relief, sometimes it was it was a lot harder to get Thomas to be calm. "We're going back to my house. I'll take you home in the morning. You're out of food and need to eat. I just went to the store." He says firmly, turning the car back on and pulling out into the street.  
Thomas was silent, never good, but James let him. He didn't want to hear him yell again.  
"Come on, I'll help you out." James says fifteen minutes later, opening Thomas' door and holding an arm out to him. Thomas gratefully took hold of his best friend, following him with the minimum of stumbling into the house.  
James' house was nearly an exact opposite of Thomas', it was small(only one bedroom, he didn't see a point in a bunch of unused rooms like Thomas did), there wasn't a thing out of place(unless you count the tall curly haired drunk man, he didn't look to belong), and it was terribly bland (everything was a color that could be described as pale and or off-white).  
James lead Thomas into the kitchen, sitting him on a stool before setting to find something quick and easy for him to eat.  
"Do you have anything to drink?" Thomas asks quietly,  
"I have water and milk." James says, "I don't have any wine, so don't ask for it." He adds, he didn't need to say he didn't have beer, that was a given, James hated the stuff.  
"I'll have water." Thomas says a bit disappointed,  
"Good." James says with a nod, grabbing a glass, but then putting it away, instead he took out a tall travel mug, something plastic, and filled it with water, no ice, Thomas hated ice in his drinks. James didn't understand why. He handled the plastic cup to Thomas who took it in both his hands, he was still shaking.  
James went back to finding some food. Finally he found what he was really looking for. Cereal bars, not something too much but something. He took out one, opened it, and handed it to Thomas.  
"Eat, it'll help with the shaking, you know it will." James instructs,  
Thomas nods and clearly reluctant to do so, began eating.  
Ten minutes later Thomas had finally finished eating the bar(he kept trying to make conversation so he didn't have to eat, James ignored him).  
"Thank you, Thomas, now come on, you need to sleep." James says, taking the cup from him and setting it on the counter, then helps him stand, helping him to the bedroom, James would just have to sleep on the couch tonight, that was fine.  
"I'm not taking your bed from you." Thomas mumbles,  
"You're not, I'm giving it to you for the night. I'm fine with it, when am I not?" James says simply with a shrug,  
"I feel bad."  
"Don't. Just get some sleep." James says, finally a minute later Thomas nods, stumbles the rest of the way to the bed and lays down. "Actually get some sleep. Don't stay up thinking." James adds before leaving the room for the living room.  
He had to do something about this. It was getting to the point where Thomas was like this all the time, it wasn't working for either of them. Thomas was going to snap again, and James couldn't let that happen. He wasn't himself anymore, and James hated that he let it go this far. Tonight he was lucky. He was called. There could be, most likely would be, a night when he isn't called. The only way to avoid that is to practically babysit for Thomas every minute of every day until this passed. But then there was the issue, when would it pass? Thomas wasn't getting any better, tonight was an example of that.  
Thomas hadn't been getting better since Martha passed. He never fully accepted her death, never was fully ready to continue on, but he did anyway. Thomas always tried to continue like things were normal until they caved in. The last few months, things have been caving in.  
Tomorrow James would talk to him, he would be hung over, but he would be sober nonetheless. He'd be able to have a real conversation with him. He'd sit him down, talk to him, try to figure out how he's feeling. The goal for tomorrow would be to start digging him out, or starting the process. He couldn't stand to see Thomas like this much longer.  
The thoughts chased through James' head as he slowly fell asleep on the couch, his sleep restless, full of thoughts he rather not have about Thomas, ones that were too real, ones he knew he'd have to address come morning.


	2. Big Apology!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an author's note. Please read if you want an update on when the story will(or more won't) be done.

Okay so I'm really sorry about this, but I won't be finishing this story for a few days, I'll post the part I have finished now, but I can't finish the full story until things calm down.  
So remember how I said in the summary or notes or something about how I write from my experience? And that I'm writing the alcohol problem from witnessing one, but haven't gotten the chance to see the recovery?  
Well something happened the other night with my mother, she drank too much for three days straight due to her depression and she just kinda snapped, and she was a mess. But she's finally realizing that she's this way, and she wants to stop it. She's come to realize she's not only hurting herself, but her family as well.  
So I can't bring myself to finish this story, especially since it ends in attempted suicide before Thomas realizes his issues, because I'm really putting a lot of my real life experiences of my mother on Thomas, that's why this is told through James' perspective besides one fluff part of Lafferson I'm working on(which I might finish and post, but I don't know).  
But anyway, this story is important to me for many reasons, to help me cope, to help me figure out my own issues out with alcoholism. But currently that's not what I need to focus on. I need to put my shit aside and help my mother.  
So for those who are willing to wait for the updates, Xiè xiè, merci, thank you, I appreciate it so much.  
I might start writing happier short stories like this for Lams or maybe even Mullette, so if you like my writing you can keep an eye out for those.  
Dubushi, I'm sorry, if you saw this had an update and you were disappointed that it wasn't what you wanted to see.  
But thank you if you read this far. It honestly means a lot to me.  
I use my stories as a coping mechanism, I put a lot of myself onto the characters I write, a lot of my own fears and hopes and past into the characters I write, and it's really difficult to post these, but I love how much positive feedback I've gotten, and the complete lack of hate. It really helps me a lot, so thank you for reading the stories I write. I wish I could finish this but it's too scary for me right now, my mother is in a terrible place in her head and I can't stand to think that she would actually try to do some of the things I planned on making Thomas do.  
Okay I'll stop now, just apologizes and thank you.


	3. I Want To Forget It All (Excluding You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, my apologies, but if you read the author's note you'll know why.

James had woken up surprisingly early for having been up until three thirty, he was up at six, too early for him on a normal morning even. But he didn't wake up tired, so there was that. He got up and went to check on Thomas, then returned to the couch, picking up a book he had been reading and doing just that, every ten minutes or so getting up to go make sure Thomas was good.  
By eight he decided to wake him up, Thomas hated waking up late, and eight was late in his mind.  
"Get up, I want you to take a shower, you smell like a rotting bar." James says gently shaking Thomas' shoulders.  
"Got it, Jimmy." Thomas mumbles, gently swatting at James to go away.  
"It's eight in the morning. Get up before you waste the rest of your day." James says with a smile as Thomas sat up quickly he feared his friend might have gotten whiplash. Thomas shakes his head to get his messy curls out of his face, frowning at James.  
"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"  
"You were up late last night and a mess, I wanted to let you sleep." James says with a shrug, "now go take a shower, I'm pretty sure you left some clothes here, if not you can borrow whatever fits. I'm making eggs." He continued,  
Fifteen minutes later Thomas came into the kitchen in some of his own clothes he had managed to find. Well, the man was lacking a shirt, which was a bit surprising to James.  
"You forgetting something?" James asks as he set one of the plates of eggs on the table for Thomas.  
"No, well, I didn't dry my hair as well as I should. But no." Thomas says with a shrug, he did have a point, his hair was still dropping slightly, it almost looked straight, it went about two inches pat his shoulders. He sat down and begin eating.  
"A shirt, Thomas. You're missing a shirt." James says shaking his head, he turned the stove off then sat beside Thomas, beginning to eat.  
"Oh yeah, I don't have a clean one. I threw the one I was wearing I the washer though." Thomas says carelessly,  
"How're you feeling?" James asks after a moment,  
"My head hurts and I'm exhausted. But I'm good." Thomas says,  
"No you're not." James says shaking his head, "what if you took a break on alcohol? Just for a few days maybe?" He asks slowly, carefully, watching Thomas' expression,  
Thomas shook his head, "no, I much rather not." He says,  
"Why?" James asks simply,  
"I just don't want to." Thomas says with a shrug,  
"What do you remember about last night?" James asks,  
"You picked me up, uh, somehow we ended up here." Thomas says, "what am I forgetting?"  
"How much do you remember drinking last night?"  
"Three beers?"  
"Eight. You had eight within an hour. You were a shaking mess and could barley stand on your own." James says with a frown,  
"I've been worse." Thomas says, his tone painfully careless,  
"That's the issue! You've been worse and you could get worse." James says shaking his head,  
"I won't, I'm fine. I know what I'm doing." Thomas says,  
"You don't remember what you did last night. You rarely remember what you're doing while you're drunk." James says, standing up and taking the empty plates to the sink,  
"Oh well, I don't need to remember. I don't want to remember." Thomas says standing and following James, perching on the counter by the sink.  
"What do you accomplish by doing this?" James asks filling the sink with water.  
"I forget things." Thomas says simply, turning the water off because James was too busy staring at Thomas for the second. But then he got the soap, beginning to wash the dishes.  
"What're you trying to forget?" James asks, handing a dry towel to Thomas and one of the plates,  
"As much as I possibly can." Thomas says, drying off the plate then setting it beside him,  
"And how's that working out?" James asks, handing him another plate,  
"Well enough." Thomas says, drying the second plate off and placing it on the other one.  
They talked for about twenty minutes, until the dishes were done, it would've been done in half the time if James did it himself, but he liked having Thomas, his actual Thomas, who couldn't stop moving while he spoke, who actually spoke like he cared about the words he said. It's been a while since he actually got to see this side of Thomas, the real him. James got him to speak finally, to say something with an actual meaning about five minutes into doing the dishes. "I want to forget how much I actually care about Martha, I want to forget everything... well, everything but you, of course." Was what Thomas said, tears in his eyes, James fell silent, then put down the sponge and pan he had, then he took the towel and spatula from Thomas, setting them on the counter before pulling his friend down and into a hug. That's the reason the dishes twice as long as they needed to. They spent ten straight minutes in silence hugging. When Thomas had calmed down they returned to what they were doing in a continued silence.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this as a way to cope with an alcohol issue that I've witnessed happen, not that I've had. So please excuse inaccuracies in how drunk Thomas acts, I'm taking my knowledge from a wiki-how article and from what I've witnessed.  
> When I get to the part of recovery the writing will probably be the least accurate, because I've sadly been unable to witness that. So please bear with me for the inaccurate story. Thank you.


End file.
